The
night was billed as a benefit to pay my $150 fliering fine. But
there were no paying customers. Nobody minded…but we still
need $150!

The night opened with Jonathan Dyer, the blues/jazz sax man who
has played in The Cherotic All-Star Band before. So naturally I
sucked him into the c.a.s.b. again. I also sucked in the bass player
of the second band, D Jellybrain. In the all-stars, he kept switching
back and forth from his bass to playing keyboard … which
Michael Peppe kept pouncing on when it wasn’t in use. The
rest of the time, Peppe made his usual weird scat vocals … when
he wasn’t sitting back with his contented smile, enjoying
the wailing chaos. I also sucked in D Jellybrain’s Swedish
sax player. Actually she is also in Fluff Grrl. I have been trying
to get her into the all-stars ever since the last Dadafest! She
played real dirty with Jonathan…but sometimes stopped playing
to let out blood-clotting Germanic screamings.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The set started off with
me sitting alone nude on stage singing Fuck the War! Well, not
quite alone…the Golem creature Fluff Grrl’s Bob was
sitting on stage with me nude cross-legged, playing a toy whistle … and
then confusing my cock for the whistle! It’s great theatre!
But ever try singing a heavy emotional/political song with a guy
blowing into your cock and balls with a mic press intimately to
capture the sounds? I live for those performance challenges! Then
I sang the Hank Williams’ song, "Move over, Little Dog" … singing
to Bob, roughing him up, it becoming a surreal slapstick act.

Then the band slowly piled onto the stage … first, Linda,
Kirsten, and Erika joined me in forming a pleasure skin cave of
bodies of
skin and cloth hiding nothing, moaning into smallness, rubbing
faces, rubbing sex, pulling away from the madness of isolation
and separations. This was the quiet core of the wall of reality-
ripping musical possibilities. The blasting volume was set by Barney’s
Theremin. Dr. O. on another keyboard created an emotional base
under a giant madhatter’s hat. Jen Neuber, sitting cross-legged
in ripped-up fishnets, high-slit skirt, and an indescribable something
around her tits held together by dental floss playing a punky/funky
sitar. Don (who was the sound guy at Liquid Den in Huntington Beach
the last time we played there) played nasty licks dripping with
lust on his guitar. Dr. Gruve … obviously fully recovered
from his terrible accident … matched and raised this nasty
raunch, blowing his brains out on his harp, jumping out of his
skin from
pure joy. I vocally floated on this wave of sexy fusion as the
three wenches erotically “got” each member of the jam
who was very eager to be gotten! We were in this raw trance for
an hour!

And now I have to write about last night’s jam which took
everything to a new dimension! My work is never done!